Sweet John
by moonlitememories
Summary: Before there was a Stiles, and before there was an Isaac, even a Derek, a Laura or a Scott, there was a Raisa, and her John.


**Here, have a drabble. Have a Stiles' parents, have some feels and some fluff and some good things while I pull my hair out for my math final. **

**This is a preset to _Revolving Door (Life doesn't pick it's tragedies)_, do give you a hint of a back story before I get started on the actual story. Have some feels and some fluff and some heart warming stuff.**

**I can't start my Stisaac story yet, I need to finish my Sterek or it wont ever get done, but I can give you this! My brain decided Stiles' mom is Russian evidently? It's fitting, since no one can pronounce his name, so.**

**Enjoy, and stay tuned!**

* * *

For as long as Beacon Hills had known -at least, as long as it had known Raisa Matveev and Talia McKinney- there had been a friendship between the human woman, and her shewolf companion.

Preschool had been a quick and easy round of friendship where they bonded over fruit snacks and boys who had cooties.

During elementaryschool, Raisa's mother had gotten a job as Talia's fathers secretary when Mrs. Matveev's husband had run off in the middle of the night.

Later, after the high school graduation, Talia had married up quick with her sweetheart, and the shewolf had gone from being a McKinney, to being a Hale.

Thus, the Hale Pack was born.

Raisa however, had taken a few more years.

She'd been well into college by the time she had met John.

Sweet John, with his dry sense of humor and horrible luck with women.

Sweet John started with a spilled cup of coffee and the clatter of a dropping purse.

In that exact order.

Their chests had crashed together when he turned around too swiftly, and the motion sent her purse to the floor and his cup of coffee down both their fronts.

She had squeaked, horrified, because she was wearing a white summer blouse of all things, and right around that time, he'd sworn up and down a fumbling blue streak.

It was then that she noticed just how handsome his red face was, but she had been far too embarrassed to comment on it, watching him with wide eyed horror as he watched her back in turn just the same.

He'd mumbled his apologies, just as beat red as they held up the line, and she'd groaned about how he owed her a new shirt.

He promised to make it up to her with dinner, earning him a quick, sharp smile in response.

Thus, with hashed out details for a dinner date the following night and a promise to make it worth her while, Raisa left the shop without her coffee, a purse that had been haphazardly thrown back together, and a ruined blouse.

Their first date went off without a hitch, as well as an apology date could anyways, and sweet John got lucky enough to get himself another date, and another, and another before thy were officially going steady.

By the time Thanksgiving came around, sweet John went home with Raisa to have dinner with her family.

Poor man didn't know that her family consisted of her mother and a rambunctious werewolf pack.

Talia was pregnant by then, swelling with her first child, and her brother Peter had swept Raisa off her feet and up into the air before they had really gotten in the door.

His hands around her waist, a wide grin on his face and the tendons in his throat straining from it, her hands had gone to his shoulders and her laughter had filled the grand entryway to the Hale Mansion.

Sweet John had taken it surprisingly well, given the circumstances.

He even took it well when Peter put a smacking kiss on her fushia painted lips, because, well, Peter was Peter.

"Peter, this is my boyfriend, John."

Surprisingly, thankfully, he even continued to take it well when Peter probably crossed what humans considered a few lines by giving the man a swift, smacking kiss as well.

There was no sputtering though, no swearing and no hateful words, and Sweet John really just stared as Peter ruffled his girlfriends hair, gave her mother a kiss just like he had them and swept out of the room.

He had, however, looked at Raisa with wide eyes and a thick flush from confusion when said mother simply chuckled and left them by themselves in the foyer.

"Welcome to the family?"

Her shoulders had lifted in a questioning bit of a shrug, and he'd laughed, bless his soul, chuckling at her expression and pressing his own kiss to her mouth, sweeter, softer, and far more personal.

Tucking a few of her honey blond curls away from her face, he'd smiled at her, bumping her nose with his in the simplest, sweetest gesture a man had ever done.

"I think I'm going to like your family."

Sweet John had done just fine at Thanksgiving dinner, and even better at New Years.

He had done best of all, however, when he had taken her to that coffee shop where everything had all started, two years later.

It had been a perfectly normal day, and he'd told her he was going to buy her a coffee since finals were over and they were official graduates.

The coffee had been good, or, it would have been, if she'd actually gotten coffee.

Instead, she'd gotten a Sweet John, kneeling in front of her in the exact spot where he had ruined her blouse, a bit of a nervous smile on his handsome face as he flushed bright and red and handsome.

Hands clasped over her mouth, startled, the entire shop had fallen silent around them, and she'd felt the burn of a dozen pairs of eyes latch onto them as the hush fell.

And then he was asking her, beautiful and handsome and nervous and brave, so brave, down on his knee in the middle of their coffee shop with his grandmothers ring and a hopeful smile on his face.

She hadn't been able to speak, to find her words or to even find her breath for that matter, and Talia and Peter would have laughed at her, if they had known she was standing there, speechless and crying as she nodded sharply.

There had been a loud cheer then from the other patrons, as he'd slid the ring onto her finger and lifted her up into the air by her waist, her arms looping around his shoulders so she could kiss him, crying still from her joy.

Sweet John had done good, so perfectly, wonderfully, absolutely good, waiting for her at the other end of the isle in his black and white tux, a nervous, starstruck expression on his face as Talia's father walked her down the isle to him.

Standing close together before the priest, her cheeks painted with a natural blush and her hair curled on the top of her head, she gave him a nervous smile.

"Hi, John."

"Hi, Raisa."


End file.
